


sotto voce

by pistolgrip



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: "in july?" yes, M/M, Not Beta Read, Pre-Relationship, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:53:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25090435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pistolgrip/pseuds/pistolgrip
Summary: He spent a lot of time on what he can no longer justify as a well-meaning practical joke. Why does it feel like the joke is onSieteinstead of Six?
Relationships: Siete | Seofon/Six | Seox (Granblue Fantasy)
Kudos: 30





	sotto voce

**Author's Note:**

> in a fit of desperation to find old ideas to post for july 6, i found this completely finished valentine's day fic from this year????? so i mean...  
> enjoy! if i don't end up scraping something together for july 6, i am SO sorry.

Six already looks wary when Siete walks up to him with hands behind his back, like he’s holding chocolates. Six is always cagey around holidays, and no more is that obvious than when it’s a holiday dedicated specifically to _love_. All kinds of it, Siete likes to think—but Six likes to _over_ think.

Siete doesn’t even say anything before Six frowns, only half of his face hidden under the mask. “Wow, Six. Grumpy already?”

“You’re up to something.”

“I’m not,” Siete says. He removes his hands from behind his back to reveal his empty hands; the chocolates are strapped to his belt behind him. “I know you get all uppity, so I made chocolates for the rest of the Eternals except for you. I’m just here to let you know that you don’t have to worry about me this year.”

When he wiggles his fingers, Six keeps his frown, but it twists in a way he doesn’t expect. “Good,” Six says. His voice is strangled. Higher pitched than usual. It distracts Siete from his _own_ teasing, enough to watch Six avoid his gaze before turning it back up to him, pretending he’s unaffected. “It would be better if you didn’t give me a present at all. I won’t accept this.”

“Won’t accept… the _nothing_ that I’m giving you?”

 _Six_ and _easily flustered_ are two concepts that make perfect sense together, but not one that Siete himself sees directed toward him. Six is on average too annoyed with him to be _flustered_. It overrides everything else. But Siete feels like a man that’s been starving all his life presented with a feast when Six sighs, clenches his teeth, and turns his head away. Irritation still laces every movement, but his mask doesn’t go low enough to hide the _slight_ blush on his cheeks. “I would not accept a gift this year. I should not have accepted your gifts in previous years.”

Siete bites his tongue to hold it in place. For the first time in his life, he stops himself from talking, because Six is talking in _circles_ out of _flustered embarrassment_.

“Furthermore, not being given a gift this year placates me.” Six pauses. He still won’t look at Siete. “Your judgement is sound.” He opens his mouth, but words don’t come out for a moment. Is he puffing his cheeks out? Is that a _pout_?

Siete bursts into laughter. He can’t help it—no matter how much Six tries to deny it to him, he seems _upset_ about not getting chocolates.

Six sputters. “W-What are you laughing at? Wipe that grin off your face.”

“Are you that upset that I didn’t make you chocolate this year?”

“Don’t be absurd,” Six shoots back instantly. “Were you not listening to me? I have no care for your chocolates, or—”

Siete reaches behind his back and unstraps the box of chocolates from his belt. He holds it out with one hand, tilting his head and grinning, raising his eyebrows, looking up from under his eyelids. “So you don’t want these, right?”

It’s not as if Siete _only_ put effort into Six’s chocolates. The Eternals got cakes, a collection of chocolates, the works—but for Six, he found himself staying up longer just to make sure they tasted the way he liked (and he was always obvious about it, no matter how many times he denied it). Siete tried something new every year for him, and Six complained the usual amount for each one, but he still liked them enough to eat them.

Siete racked his brain to recall what he made for Six over the years, and it took him more time than he expected for all the variety he chose. Everything is in a heart-shaped box to seal the deal, but when he sits down next to Six and hands the box to him, he gets second thoughts _._

He spent a lot of time on what he can no longer justify as a well-meaning practical joke. Why does it feel like the joke is on _Siete_ instead of Six?

Despite his sudden inner turmoil, he keeps his smile easy as Six looks first at him, then at the chocolates. Six is going through his own visible turmoil right now. It’s easier to focus on how he stutters out an answer to Siete’s question. “I—No.”

“Don’t overthink it,” he jokes, which is a case in dramatic irony if he’s ever seen one with his mind unpacking what it is that makes him try so hard for Six, _right in front of the man himself_. “But these’ll go to waste, so you should take them anyway!”

“Why not give them to the millions of people you have lined up,” Six grumbles. His arms shift, stiff where he folds them against his chest.

“Because I made these for _you_! It’d be like trying to wear Okto’s uniform. It just wouldn’t fit.” He opens the box, wafting the smell toward Six’s nose. “Try _one_. Promise it’s amazing or your money back.”

“I hope this means you’d give me compensation since I never asked in the first place.” Six looks like a tight-wound coil of energy before his hand darts out, taking a chocolate from the box. The mask’s glare feels more potent as Six unhinges its jaw, leaving only its glowing eyes and protruding fangs to stare into Siete as he puts the chocolate in his mouth.

His mouth closes, and then he freezes. Siete watches as he lets the chocolate melt in his mouth experimentally, his ears pointing straight up and twitching.

His head snaps up to Siete. “Stop smiling.”

Siete didn’t even realize he was smiling. “It’s good?”

Six sighs, his lips pursing like he doesn’t want to admit it. It’s part of their tradition at this point, too. “They’re serviceable.”

Siete pumps a fist into the air with a small cheer, as warmth rushes over him. “Seal of approval!”

“Far from it.” His words come out like a long sigh, but Siete _thinks_ he sees something that could be a smile as he reaches out for another chocolate. “There will be no repeat of this next year.”

“Nice try, not when you look this pleased about it.” Before Siete can think, he reaches out to pinch one of Six’s cheeks. (It’s warm between his fingertips, and he likes to think that the blush was there before he worried the skin.)

Six swats him away, and then he takes the box from Siete’s hand. “Was chocolate-making one of your elusive past experiences?”

“So you admit my chocolates are high quality?”

The frown on Six’s mask is permanent, but Siete figures he’s wearing one under the mask anyway when he pops another chocolate into his mouth without looking away from Siete. “If it helps you sleep at night.”

On the contrary. When Siete sees him relax, the tension draining from his frame as the chocolate melts in his mouth, he thinks that he’s gained a whole other problem by answering _why_ he’s tried so hard to find something Six likes.


End file.
